Torch
by Killer Moth
Summary: Darkness ficlet. Here is how Connie acquired the ancient typewriter from Jack.


Disclaimer: All rights belong to Wolf Films.

Author's Note: Inspired by one of Connie's initial lines in "Darkness."

Timeline: The night of "Darkness"' blackout.

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A statuesque, dark-haired young lady schlepped up several flights of stairs. "Why can't D.A. offices be in ranch homes?"

A hand on the rail, she tramped to her designated floor. People were scurrying to and fro within the darkened office, flashlights flickering. She then entered a candlelit room, while the occupant ignited another candle. "You trying your Lincoln impersonation, Jack?"

A gangly, gray-haired gentleman twirled himself around and faced her. "Connie," his eyes scanned her unkempt appearance. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, I just parked my car in the dark and hiked the rest of the way." She straightened her crumpled blue blouse.

"I'm impressed."

"You would have been more impressed by my profaning when the blackout first occurred. Without electricity for traffic lights, one can die of old age from gridlock."

Jack fastened his striped tie, his upper lip inward. "That's very cute."

Connie instantly covered her mouth with her fingers. "Sorry."

He veered off. "Forget it. Is there an actual reason for your visit, beyond commenting on the obvious power failure and equating gridlock to a prolonged death?"

She stepped forward, posture taut. "Yeah, I need to do a release warrant for a kidnapping, and the power died before I could recharge my laptop."

"So, ask for someone else's."

"Hard to do that when everyone around you is pulling a 'Lord of the Flies' routine and may need to conserve their batteries for tomorrow. Given the crime, speed is of the essence, anyway. You have a typewriter that doesn't run on anything, so I thought…." She meandered toward an old-fashioned, black typewriter on a side bookcase, keys protracted like teeth.

"You thought to use the absolute last resort." He wiggled his feathery eyebrows.

She tightly seized her forearms. "Can the gloating wait until tomorrow?"

"It isn't gloating."

"What is it, then?"

"It's simply appreciating the irony of the archaic machine trumping the more advanced cousin. If it helps, I'm consoled by the fact that you're not panicking with the rest of them — your colleague, Mike, is busy making a pact with God to revitalize his Boysenberry."

"Blackberry, Jack."

"I was being facetious; I'm not _that_ out of it yet."

She cleared her throat. "Right. So, can I use it?"

Jack shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sorry, Connie, but the old man still has to have some fun in his life. Go ahead and take it, but I warn you — it's a little heavy."

She hoisted the bulky device, her slender arms strained. "Thank you, and it's… light as a feather."

"If you can lift it all the way to your cubicle, you'll get a raise. If you want me to help you, I can." He elevated his chin.

"No, no, I got it — I'm not that out-of-shape, Jack."

"Well, paper-pushers don't always get much exercise, including myself on occasion."

Connie wobbled to the doorframe, her nostrils flaring. "I'm fine."

"Alright, but I will stock spinach or some other kind of pick-me-up for the next blackout."

She halfheartedly grinned. "Making reference to Popeye is enough."

He beamed at the overexerted woman. "There may be hope for you yet, Connie. To answer your original question, I know I look like Lincoln, so I should act like him at times. The rest you can blame on the narrow ranges of cheap flashlights, hence the candles."

"Oh, I'm learning big time on how technology has its limits."

His head tilted to the side. "You know, you could have called me about this — phones usually work in a blackout."

She peered downward. "I still had to get it and the warrant. Besides, I wanted to spare myself public humiliation about being helpless or that my machines failed me. Not to mention, I stupidly forgot to power up my cell phone beforehand."

"One day, your pride may cost you, Connie. And, since you got your hands full right now, you can praise my ancient ways after the warrant is executed. I hope there will be a happy ending, there." He graciously shut the door.

She lumbered to her open cubicle. "At least, the chiropractor will have one after I tell him about my raise."

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Leave me a review if you wish, and see you in the funny papers.


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